Page 31 of The Diary at the Last House Before the Sea

He rarely looked at them. In fact, he never looked at them. But today he had an urge to open the tin and drown in the past. Clara’s interest in Audrey had brought up memories that were refusing to lie quiet and still.

Geoffrey flicked through the photos, his heart fluttering at the images long unseen. He spent several seconds studying a photo of Lucia with their newborn, who, she’d insisted, must be called River. She was a beautiful woman, glowing with maternal pride at the bundle in her arms. He had been so proud the day she brought their son home from the hospital. So determined to look after the both of them for ever. And look how that had turned out.

Pushing that photo back into the tin, Geoffrey turned his attention to a picture of Audrey and his father, Edwin. This one must have been taken during their early courtship, at some kind of dance. Audrey, much younger than her husband-to-be, looked radiant in a dress with a tight bodice and full skirt. She was gazing up at him with adoration in her eyes as he placed a protective arm around her waist. It was sad but Geoffrey never remembered them going out dancing after they were married and Audrey had moved into the manor. Except for the ball held here in 1957, and that was swiftly followed by the tragedy of her death.

His mood dipping, he began to leaf more quickly through the images before deciding to stop dredging up the past and put the photos away. What was the point of all this pain?

‘Hello. Where are you?’

River’s voice drifted into the room from the hall.

Startled, Geoffrey dropped a handful of photos which scattered across the floor.

‘Damn!’ he muttered, getting onto his knees and sweeping the photos into a pile which he crammed back into the tin. He pushed it back beneath the books and closed the dresser drawer quietly. River had gone into the library looking for him but it wouldn’t be long before he was discovered.

‘Come on, Grayson,’ he said to the golden retriever which was slumbering on the sofa. ‘Time to go.’

Geoffrey slipped out of the open French windows and walked with the dog across the grass, towards the moors which rose up behind the house. He felt guilty for deliberately avoiding his son but the thought of a heart-to-heart chat filled him with dread. When they’d met up over the years, it had always been in a public place at his instigation – a busy restaurant or the bar of an airport hotel, where deep conversation was unlikely. But here, in the peace of memory-laden Brellasham Manor, it would be different.

And while Geoffrey knew what he should say to River, he also knew that he never would. He never could. So it was better, right now, to avoid spending time alone with his son at all.

14

CLARA

Clara turned away from the portrait of Audrey. River had just reached the top of the stairs and was walking along the landing towards her.

‘Have you seen my father?’ he asked, his feet making no sound on the thick carpet.

‘Afraid not. Do you need him urgently?’

‘No. I was hoping to have a chat with him but he seems to have disappeared again. I’m beginning to think he’s avoiding me.’

That was very possible, thought Clara, who had once been convinced that Geoffrey was going out of his way to avoid her too. But she wouldn’t add to River’s suspicions.

‘I expect he’s just gone for a stroll with Grayson to try and clear his mind,’ she assured him. ‘There’s a lot going on and he usually goes to the moors when he wants some peace and quiet. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.’

‘Yeah, I suppose so.’

‘Thanks for backing me about the fete, by the way. It’s a tradition that people in Heaven’s Cove look forward to every year, and it won’t be held next year, of course, so…’

Clara tailed off as the fact that this would be the last ever Brellasham Manor Fete properly hit her. This house had been a part of local life for so long, but soon it would be carved up into expensive apartments. And the cottage she shared with her mother, which was old and in need of repair, would probably be razed to the ground.

‘You’re welcome,’ said River, peering at her closely. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine, thanks. It’s just been a long day.’

‘You can say that again.’ River’s mouth turned up at the corner. ‘Did you really tell my father that he’d behaved like an arse?’

‘Not in so many words but’ – Clara grinned – ‘sort of, yeah. He took it quite well, considering.’

‘Which is surprising. My father isn’t a man who handles criticism well.’

‘I think he’s changed a bit over the years,’ said Clara, surprised to find herself standing up for Geoffrey, but she couldn’t shake the image of him as a child watching a woman he loved walk into the sea. Trauma like that must change a person.

‘Maybe. I wouldn’t know. We’ve hardly exchanged more than a few words since I arrived.’

‘Hopefully you’ll get a chance to talk soon.’

---